


Happy Anniversary

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 10 Years of StevexTony, Anal Sex, Anniversary, CACW compliant, Canon Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meta, Metafiction, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Post-Canon, Romance, Smut, Superhusbands, Superhusbands (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 02:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10265618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: Steve wakes up alone on his and Tony's 10-year anniversary. Heprobablyshouldn't be surprised, but as it becomes clear Tony has forgotten the day, he becomes more and more disappointed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Big ups and thanks to [dapperanachronism](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism), who did the beta work for me.

Steve wakes up alone. He’s only mildly disappointed – Tony’s always busy in the workshop, sometimes he forgets to come to bed. Today of all days, of course, it’s a little more disappointing than usual, but Steve knows it’s fine. Tony will have something amazing planned for later.

Not that Tony  _ usually _ makes a big deal out of relationship milestones. Steve’s heard tell of a giant stuffed rabbit of some kind, from Pepper, and has been told he should be thankful Tony isn’t overcompensating like that anymore. 

Steve thinks, sometimes, he wouldn’t mind a giant bunny.

Not that he’s unhappy. He’s  _ not _ unhappy. He  _ loves _ Tony, loves what they have together. And Tony may not always pay attention to important dates, but he never makes Steve feel ignored or taken for granted.

And, honestly, the sex is still great, which Steve is a little surprised by, because Tony can still somehow keep up with him and that is A-okay in his books.

So, trying not to think too much about the fact that Tony hadn’t come to bed last night, Steve gets up and makes himself a protein shake, eats a muffin, and heads out for a run. He picks up Bucky at his floor on the way down, and they make their way to Central Park to run the perimeter a couple of times. 

It’s late morning by the time they get back, and Steve rushes upstairs, sure Tony will have fallen into bed, so Steve can curl up close around his back and wake him up with a kiss.

Except when Steve gets up to the penthouse, it’s still empty. He glances around, but can’t find any trace of Tony having been up here at all.

“FRIDAY?” he asks. Even now, after so many years, he can’t help but feel weird about speaking to FRIDAY. JARVIS had been easier, somehow. Easier to talk to. Maybe because Tony had based him on a real person? A person he’d loved? FRIDAY seems less… connected. Or less easy to connect to. “FRIDAY, is Tony down in the workshop still?”

“Mr. Stark is out of the tower at the moment,” she tells him, Irish lilt a little soft, almost pitying. “He had some meetings this morning and hasn’t been back.”

“Oh.” Steve tries not to feel put out that he hadn’t even known Tony had work things to do. Plus, he’s a little – only a little – disappointed that Tony hadn’t just taken the day off entirely. It might have been nice to just spend the whole day together. “Did he get any sleep last night?”

“He napped on the couch in the workshop for a couple of hours, but no, I wouldn’t say he got much sleep.”

Steve sighs. “Okay, well, can you let me know when he gets home?”

“It’d be my pleasure, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY tells him. 

With a deep sigh, Steve heads for a quick shower, then makes his way down to his office to work on field reports. He signs off on Peter’s report of the last time Electro resurfaced, and glances through Sam’s report of the disturbance out in Chelsea last week. It’s busywork, he knows that. He’s mostly just killing time until Tony gets home so they can celebrate.

He gets lost in his work, and even though he’s still feeling a little lonely, time goes quickly. He jerks his head up in surprise when FRIDAY breaks the silence of the room.

“Mr. Stark has pulled into the garage,” she says, yanking him out of his reading. “Would you like to catch the elevator with him on his way up to the penthouse?”

“Please,” Steve says, standing up to stretch. His back pops, and he gives it a little twist. It still twinges, sometimes, even with the serum in his veins. But, then, it had been an injury that would have killed an ordinary man, easily. He’d been down for weeks, and recovering in a wheelchair for months before he was able to start working strength and mobility back into the muscles.

He goes to stand by the elevator, a wide smile creeping across his face as the doors open.

Tony is leaning against the wall, looking ridiculously handsome in his three-piece suit. His hair is gelled back in the way he wears it for meetings, a style Steve hates because he can’t run his fingers through it. He’s on his phone, rambling about memory function and charging cells, but he glances up and gives Steve a real smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve grins back, his day infinitely better now that Tony’s in it. He lets his eyes roam over the peppering of white hairs at Tony’s temples, through his beard. But even after the years, even after the ups and downs, the horrors they’ve faced together… Tony still makes his heart beat a little faster.

“Listen, Chad, I gotta go here, okay? Just get R&D on those specs and bring the processing energy down within acceptable limits, and I promise not to sell your firstborn into slavery.” Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as the elevator doors close behind him. “Okay, fine, I won’t sell her into slavery. I will, however, send her a truckload of kittens and a lifetime supply of caffeine and cotton candy, just see if I don’t. Get it done.”

Tony stabs his thumb at the disconnect button on the phone and tucks it into his pants pocket.

“Hey, Cap,” he says with an easy grin, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his pinstriped vest. The suit is a medium grey colour, the shirt under it a deep red. Steve knows, without a doubt, that if he were to reach down and pull Tony’s pant leg up, the socks sticking out of his tasteful Italian loafers will be a ridiculous, bright pattern. He wonders, idly, if Tony’s wearing the Stormtrooper socks or the Marvin the Martian ones. He’d gotten Tony the Marvin ones for Christmas last year, and he’d spent the whole day slyly telling Steve he’d be making him go “kaboom” later.

“How was your day?” Steve asks, leaning in and giving Tony a chaste kiss hello. Tony returns it, with interest, before pulling back, sighing.

“Only mildly stupid,” he admits. “As usual, Pepper made it bearable by kicking the stupidest people out of my office first.”

“Good. So, what’s the plan tonight?”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m mostly thinking happy thoughts about a hot shower and a soft mattress.”

“Oh. Um. Okay, that’s fine,” Steve says, trying not to sound too disappointed. It’s really  _ not _ that big a deal, and Tony’d had a hard day, and not enough sleep last night. “We can maybe do something nice this weekend? Dinner?”

Tony shrugs. “Sure, Cap.”

Steve pastes a smile across his face. “Can you believe it’s been ten years?” he says cheerfully.

“Uh… what?” Tony blinks at him, amber sunglasses making his brown eyes look owlish. Tony reaches up and takes the glasses off, tucking them into his chest pocket. “Ten years since what?”

“Since we – since we got together. You know? Ten years.”

“Um… no?” Tony says, blinking harder. “It has not.”

“Yes it has,” Steve says gently. That explains a lot about why Tony hadn’t done anything special for their anniversary – he hadn’t remembered it.

“Not a chance. No way. You’re a lying liar who lies,” Tony says, scowling. “I’d remember that.”

“Tony. Tony, it’s been ten years. Don’t you – how are we arguing about this?”

“Nope. There’s no way. It’s only been nine years.”

“Tony. It was  _ right _ after Thanos. My  _ back _ wasn’t even healed,” Steve says, brow furrowing. Did Tony  _ really _ not remember? How he’d spent days and weeks camped out in Steve’s room at the hospital, barely eating, hardly sleeping, until Steve had woken up, and when he had, how Tony had yelled at him, for almost dying, for taking the hit that had been meant for him and almost leaving before Tony could tell him how he felt? After everything they’d been through? After everything with Bucky and the Accords and now  _ this _ ? And Steve had just stared, barely comprehending, still half out of it with pain meds and fuzzy headed from, well, the coma, until he’d gotten it, all of a sudden, he understood what Tony was saying, and even though his whole body hurt, he’d reached up, he’d taken hold of Tony’s shirt and pulled him down and kissed him.

And it hadn’t mattered that his mouth felt like dry cotton, or that he was sure he’d smelled like… well, like someone who’d been in a coma for a few weeks, really, because Tony had kissed him back, a quiet sound creaking out of his throat before his warm, calloused hands had planted themselves on either side of Steve’s face and kissed the breath out of him.

Tony blinks at him again. “Are you sure? Are you sure that was ten years ago?”

“Oh my  _ God _ , Tony, of course I’m –”

The elevator doors open, but not at the penthouse. Instead, it’s the roof. The roof, which has been decorated with tiny fairy lights, with a little bonfire, with flowers everywhere – orchids and peonies and lilies. There’s a simple table beside the fire, with a bottle of champagne chilling beside it. It’s the perfect dinner just before the sun sets, the light golden red in the sky. There are two place settings on the table, each plate covered with a shining silver dome, and Steve has never been so speechless in his life.

“What…” he doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t think of what to say. He glances over at Tony, who bursts out laughing.

“Oh my  _ God, _ ” he crows, face flushed with humour. “The look on your  _ face.” _

“Tony, this is – how long did this take?”

“What, the roof garden? Or trying to come up with a way to make that vein in your forehead throb so pretty?”

“Tony… Tony, this is so… why do you feel the need to torture me?”

Tony blinks at him, still smiling smugly. “Uh… because it’s foreplay? I generally assume that the best way to make you forgive me for it is sex, and it’s my anniversary, Steve. A man has needs. Sex needs.”

“You…” Steve sighs. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me.”

“I really do,” Steve admits, leaning in for a kiss.

When they break apart, Tony’s grin is less smug, less cheeky. It’s genuine, soft and quiet. “Happy anniversary, Steve.”

Steve smiles back down at him, letting his forehead rest against Tony’s. “Happy anniversary.”

+++++

 

They eat dinner, watching the sun go the rest of the way down, and drink champagne on the roof while New York buzzes below them. It’s nice – Steve had thought Tony would do something ridiculous, extravagant for their anniversary, but this (admittedly somewhat fancy) rooftop dinner is perfect, just special enough without being extravagant in a way that will make Steve feel uncomfortable.

“You could have changed,” Steve says, leaning back on the lounger with Tony cradled between his legs, laying on Steve’s chest. Tony is sipping at his champagne, three-piece suit somehow still un-rumpled. He hasn’t even kicked his shoes off, the leather glinting in the city lights where his ankles are crossed over one another at the foot of the lounger.

“Nah,” Tony says, draining his glass. He reaches out to place it on the table beside them and tips his chin up to look back at Steve. “I had an idea about that, actually.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“You will. Let’s go to bed. The bots’ll clean this up.”

Steve grins and presses a kiss to Tony’s ear, pushing at his back to help him stand up. Tony turns to pull Steve up, and they’re kissing, with Tony walking backward toward the elevator, hauling Steve with him, working at Steve’s shirt buttons, trying to undress him without breaking the kiss.

It doesn’t take long for Steve’s cock to fill, and he feels Tony’s answering erection when he grinds their hips together against the elevator wall. They fall out still joined when the doors open, laughing as they move toward the bedroom. Steve reaches for Tony’s vest, aiming for the buttons, but Tony grabs his hands and pulls back a little. “Leave it.”

Steve blinks. “You’re not – you’re not going to undress?”

“Not right now,” Tony says, pushing Steve’s shirt back off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. He drops his hands to Steve’s belt and unbuckles it, taking a moment to unzip his fly and push the trousers down, helping Steve step out of them where they’re pooled at his feet.

His briefs are next, then Tony drops down to a knee and pulls at Steve’s socks until Steve is completely naked, standing in front of their bed, and Tony is fully clothed in his suit.

It makes Steve’s face heat, a little with embarrassment, a lot with lust.

Tony always has looked damn good in a suit.

Tony presses against him, the soft fabric of his suit rough against Steve’s cock, and kisses him again. “How much foreplay are you looking for, here?” Tony asks against his skin, lips trailing down Steve’s jaw, his neck, nipping at the tender skin there. 

“Thought the thing about you forgetting our anniversary was the foreplay,” Steve says, voice a little raspy with want. “Just looking to get laid on my special day, now, Stark.” He manages to keep the chuckle out of his voice, though he’s not sure he’s managing to keep a straight face as he says it.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” Tony tells him, pushing at his shoulders. Before Steve can lay back on the bed, Tony pushes at his right shoulder, urging him to turn and face the bed. When he does, Tony runs a hand down his spine to cup his ass, then back up to his shoulders and pushes them down. Steve doesn’t hesitate, bending at the waist at Tony’s encouragement, feeling a shiver at how exposed he feels like this. Tony taps at the inside of his thigh, and Steve obligingly spreads his legs a little wider.

“Good,” Tony says, pressing his groin against Steve’s ass a little, just enough to let Steve feel his erection through the luxurious fabric of the suit.

Steve hears the click of a lid, and smells the slightly rubbery smell of personal lubricant, and then, with no more warning, Tony is sliding a slick finger inside him, the stretch and burn of it just enough to make Steve hiss, to make his cock twitch with pleasure.

Tony doesn’t say anything, just slides that finger in and out a few times before introducing a second. The burn is a little sharper this time, but Steve doesn’t move, letting his hands fist in the bedding he’s bent over.

“Ten years in and I’m still not tired of this ass,” Tony says, fingers pushing in and out, scissoring from time to time to stretch Steve open. 

“Ten years in and I’m  _ definitely _ tired of you  _ being _ an ass,” Steve grunts, a little moan escaping his throat when Tony retaliates against the comment with a harder thrust. 

“Quiet, now, Steve, I’m concentrating here,” he says, tone lightly chastising, as he pulls his fingers out, adding a little more lubricant and swiping it across Steve’s rim.

A light shuffle of movement behind him, and then Steve hears a zipper, only a zipper, and barely a moment later he feels Tony’s cock at his entrance, pushing in slowly but steadily, stretching him open, not stopping until Steve can feel the fabric of Tony’s pants against his ass and thighs. 

He pants, glancing down to see that, yes, Tony’s still wearing his pants and his fancy loafers. Steve turns his head, and Tony hasn’t taken off  _ anything _ . He’s still wearing the whole suit, jacket included. 

Tony grins at him, grinding forward a little so Steve can feel pressure on his prostate, the rough slide of virgin wool against his ass and thighs.

It’s hot. It shouldn’t be – God knows they’ve done more interesting things in bed than this, but there’s something about the way Tony’s wearing that suit, something about the fact that Steve is naked and on display for him, that ignites a fire of desire in his belly. He moans and pushes back to meet Tony’s thrusts, and then it’s fast and dirty, the slap of Tony’s hips against his, his rigid cock spreading Steve open, reaching deep inside him, sliding against his prostate. He’s crying out as Tony thrusts harder, faster, hands gripping Steve’s hips roughly. It’s intense, it’s brutal, and Steve knows they’ll go slow in the morning, gentle and romantic and sweet, but for right now he’s more than fine with the hot, quick, fierce fuck Tony’s giving him.

Tony’s hand sneaks forward around his hip, wrapping around his cock and stroking mercilessly, fast, doubling the rhythm of his thrusts, and it doesn’t take long before Steve loses it, his knees shaking as his balls draw up, and then he’s coming, shooting over Tony’s knuckles and onto the edge of the bed, and Tony’s fucking harder, faster, jerking his hips and groaning out his own orgasm while Steve tries to keep his feet, tries to bring his breath back under control.

Tony drapes himself over Steve’s back when he’s spent, breathing unevenly, and Steve’s skin is sensitive, now, to the wool of the suit against the skin of his back. After a moment, Tony presses a kiss to his spine, right over the place where it had been broken, shattered to fragments in the fight against Thanos, where there is no scar, no change in skin, but Tony can find the place with no effort, just like Steve can feel it in the mornings or when he’s bent over his desk for too long.

Tony pulls back, pulls out, a soothing hand on Steve’s hip, and Steve stands, wincing a little at the soreness, and turns to kiss Tony, hard.

“Shower,” Tony slurs, grinning dopily at him while he yanks at his tie, at his vest, at his pants.

Steve grins, a little flicker of lust hitting him again at the sight of Tony’s cock, slick with lube and come, softening but still sticking out of his open fly.

“Romantic bath?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve stayed with you this long,” Tony nods, finally managing to work some of his clothes off as he starts striding toward the bathroom. “You have all the good ideas.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and follows Tony to the bathroom. “Plus,” Steve says with a smug smile, “I’ll wash your back.”

“I am the luckiest man alive,” Tony says, and Steve can tell he’d meant it to come out flippant, but Tony’s staring straight into his eyes, and Steve feels a little jolt at the sincerity there.

“Me, too,” he says, leaning forward to give Tony another sweet kiss.

“Happy anniversary,” Tony says again, before he turns to hit a few buttons on the wall to start the jacuzzi tub filling.

“Happy anniversary,” Steve answers, brushing a thumb across Tony’s cheek. Maybe Tony won’t ever always remember to come to bed at night, and maybe he’ll spend their twentieth anniversary in meetings too, but Steve’s not sure he minds. Because when it counts, Tony will always come through with a rooftop dinner while the sun sets. 

“Ten years,” Steve muses. “Who’d have thought?”

“Anyone with any sense,” Tony tells him with a smile.


End file.
